


Local Man Almost Cuts Hand Off Because Boyfriend Is Too Cute

by freelancestargazing



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Blood and Injury, Fluff, Halloween, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, and then there’s some crazy whiplash, the first half will probably give you more cavities than halloween candy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27296050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freelancestargazing/pseuds/freelancestargazing
Summary: Finn fights back his grin as Poe launches into a rant about being careful with the knife, keeping your hands behind the blade and carving away from you, always paying attention and if you look away, stop carving, because we don’t need any trips to the emergency room tonight, yeah? He nods along, only half paying to Poe’s words. He’s distracted by the motion of Poe’s nicely calloused hands, his unruly curls and the shadows they cast over his face.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	Local Man Almost Cuts Hand Off Because Boyfriend Is Too Cute

Finn hates hospitals. White walls, white floors, white lights, white doors, people walking up and down dressed in white or pale blue; everything always seemed bleached of colour and smelled like it too. There is a sense of panic in the air, anticipation and tension rising with every doctor that walks through, every name that gets called. He shifts in the pale grey plastic chairs, generic hospital-issue that also smell like too-strong soap and seem to be made by someone who doesn’t understand how human beings sit in chairs. His fingers tap on the plastic armrest, his leg bounces an arrhythmic beat. He pauses his finger tapping to push his glasses up his nose, licking his lips, clicking his tongue, then resuming his tapping.

God, how he hates hospitals.

All he’d wanted was a nice Friday night in before the Halloween party on Saturday, just watching scary movies and carving pumpkins with his boyfriend. He did not expect to have to rush to hospital because Poe doesn’t know how to handle a carving knife.

(Actually that’s inaccurate, and Finn would feel bad about the thought (because he knows that Poe is very good with his hands, being both a mechanic and an artist) if it weren’t Poe’s own goddamned fault for not paying attention when handling a _fucking knife_.)

✩✩✩✩✩

He’s just stepped out of his car when hands clamp over his eyes, and someone growls in his ear, “Wanna play a game?” and if it was any other night with anyone else he would tell them to fuck right off, because he is tired and not in the mood for this bullshit, except he knows how much Poe loves Halloween, and maybe he’ll humour his boyfriend just this once (even though Halloween isn’t actually until tomorrow).

“What kind of game?” he asks, fumbling for the car door and slamming it shut. The hands disappear for a second, and Finn barely has time to blink before they are replaced by a hand towel. The keys are taken from his hands and the car’s back door is opened and then shut again, which hopefully means that Poe grabbed his laptop bag and folders. There’s a grunt, a muttered curse, and a sigh, and then Poe worms his arm around Finn’s waist and gently guides him from the carport to the front door of their house.

Even from outside the door, Finn can smell the spices of dinner, and maybe even desert, and his mouth waters at the thought of Poe’s phenomenal cooking (another of his boyfriend’s many, many talents). He hears the door open, and he’s ushered into the warmth of the house, relieved to be able to remove his coat without freezing. Poe walks away a few steps, the sudden loss of contact leaving a dull longing in Finn that he never notices until moments like this, and Finn assumes he’s dropped the bag and folders in the study. Behind the cloth, he can tell the room is bathed in spooky orange lighting, and there’s music playing too. _Thriller_ , he thinks, and he grins despite himself.

Poe returns quickly, sliding up behind him and removing the towel, tossing it to the couch and revealing their living room covered in decorations. Fake spiderwebs are draped over the walls, a swarm of paper bats hangs from the ceiling, and mason jar candles can be found on every flat surface, most of them lit and smelling intensely of cinnamon. There’s a full plastic skeleton stood in the corner too, but some of its bones appear to be missing. Finn fully expects to find them scattered throughout the house to freak people out when they least expect it.

“Happy Halloween, love,” Poe murmurs near his ear, and Finn turns to give him a bright smile.

“Happy Halloween, Poe.” He kisses him, soft and sweet and chaste, forever amazed that he gets to come home to this: an adorable boyfriend who’s also an amazing cook and loves Halloween more than anyone Finn has met in his life.

Poe pulls back, but only far enough to rest his head against Finn’s temple. They sway together for a moment, and Finn can hear _Monster Mash_ playing softly through the speaker. It’s not the most romantic music, or even the most romantic holiday, but Poe never fails to make Finn feel like the most special person in the universe.

Their cuddling and swaying get rudely interrupted by the grumbling of Finn’s stomach. Finn flushes as Poe laughs and pokes his middle. “I guess we should get to dinner then.”

“I was perfectly okay where we were,” Finn mumbles, cursing his body and its bad timing. “What’s another hour or two without food?”

“Devastating,” Poe says, tugging Finn towards the kitchen and dining room, and the heavenly smells wafting from there. “When did you last eat?”

“Maybe midday?” Finn answers absently, focused on inhaling the gorgeous smell. He can pick out pumpkin and cinnamon, tomato and garlic and pepper, and his stomach grumbles again, louder and more desperately. “Truly devastating.”

Poe gives him the Concerned Eyebrows. “We’ve talked about this, love.” They stop at the kitchen sink to wash their hands, and then Poe is pushing Finn into a chair at the half-set dining table and nudging a bowl of salad towards him. “Snack on this while I get the rest.”

Finn obeys, content to watch Poe bustle around the kitchen in a way that is so strongly reminiscent of his mother, Finn’s heart hurts. He only knew Shara Bey for a few months before she passed, but she was the kind of spirit that could light up the darkest of rooms. That trait showed up in her son, and Finn hopes he never tires of watching the way Poe moves through life—bringing light and warmth to all around him. Thankfully, he’s not quite the wildfire he was as a teenager, but he’s certainly bright and unafraid of burning.

A plate is set in front of him, breaking Finn from his thoughts and drawing his attention to the meal: chicken enchiladas and tomato salsa with the salad; Snap’s Cider, golden in clear glass bottles; and sitting in the middle of the table—

“Pumpkin pie,” Poe says, surprisingly shy, “our second favourite.”

Finn meets Poe’s eyes, a deep brown as enchanting as their owner, and feels a rush of emotions completely indescribable, but easily summed up as _holy shit I love you so much_.

“Holy shit I love you so much,” he blurts, which makes Poe grin, shyness dissipating as if it were never there.

“Love you too, baby.”

They smile softly at each other across the table, and that dinner is one of the sappiest dinners they’ve had since their fifth date when they confessed to each other. Poe’s foot keeps brushing up Finn’s ankle, sending sparks through his veins and making him feel giddy inside.

“I was thinkin’,” Poe starts, muffled around the food in his mouth, “tha’ we could carve the pumpkins for th’party together, and then watch somethin’ spooky. Whaddya think?”

Finn levels him with a look, waiting patiently until Poe finishes his mouthful. “We talked about your manners, too, you know,” he says, repressing the instinctive smile when Poe grins at him, unashamed. “I think that’s a great idea, but I, uh…”

Poe frowns. “What’s up?”

“I haven’t actually ever carved a real pumpkin before,” he says in a rush.

Poe’s eyebrows lift in shock, and his jaw actually drops down a bit. Finn looks away, unsure why he’s so embarrassed about this. Poe knows his family was never that big on holidays, and it surely isn’t a big deal because Poe loves teaching people new things, but Finn still wishes he could just sink into his chair to not face Poe’s shock.

There’s a hand on his arm, and he looks up to see Poe leaning over the table, shirt almost in his plate, giving him those Concerned Eyebrows again. “Hey, Finn, it’s okay, I’ll just teach you how to do it. It’s not a problem, and not something to worry about.”

Finn nods, letting Poe reassure him. He takes a breath, and smiles up at his boyfriend, his amazing boyfriend who is a great cook and puts up with his bullshit. “I’m okay, really. I’d like to learn, it sounds fun.”

Poe smiles and leans back, picking up his plate and carrying it to the kitchen. Finn follows after a moment, grateful for the routine actions. Poe washes the dishes and Finn dries them, and they spend the ten minutes it takes bumping hips and shoulders and sending each other soft smiles, and the whole thing is sappy and domestic, and Finn loves it.

Once the dishes are done, Poe makes Finn leave the room while he sets up their ‘carving station’. Finn shakes his head with a smile and takes the opportunity to take out his contacts and put his glasses on instead. He shrugs out of his work clothes too, replaces his button down with a T-shirt and his trousers with sweatpants, and drops them in the laundry basket to be washed tomorrow morning. His shoes are shoved into the closet next to Poe’s heavy-duty boots, he picks up Poe’s scattered laundry, shoves a pair of sneakers into the closet too. _How long does it take to set up a carving station?_ He muses as he fluffs the pillows and straightens the covers on the bed for no real reason.

Finally, Poe calls Finn back in, and he realises why it took so long. Poe has stripped the dining table of its cloth and centrepiece, replacing it with newspaper, and on top of the paper are two massive pumpkins, both with traditional spooky faces drawn on in black marker. Set next to them is an array of tools: large carving knives, smaller carving knives, dinner forks, dessert spoons, and teaspoons, and two bowls presumably for the pumpkin scraps. He has also brought in some of the candles from the living room, and they provide a nice autumnal ambiance, even with the overhead lights on.

Finn lets out a low whistle. “That’s a nice setup, Mr. Dameron.”

There’s a very smug smile on Poe’s face as he gestures Finn into a chair, but then he straightens, plants his hands on his hips and puts on his Teacher Face. “Now, first thing’s first: knife safety.”

Finn fights back his grin as Poe launches into a rant about being careful with the knife, keeping your hands behind the blade and carving away from you, always paying attention and _if you look away, stop carving, because we don’t need any trips to the emergency room tonight, yeah?_ He nods along, only half paying to Poe’s words. He’s distracted by the motion of Poe’s nicely calloused hands, his unruly curls and the shadows they cast over his face. He must have showered as soon as he got home, but before he started cooking, because although the scent of their soap still lingers on his skin, the rich tomato sauce from dinner is far stronger.

“So, are we ready to start?” Poe says, making Finn focus back in. “Finn? Did you hear any of that?”

“Pay attention to the knife, don’t cut my fingers off, no emergency room tonight,” Finn recites, picking up one of the large carving knives and idly swinging it from his fingers. “Where do I begin?”

Poe sighs, and Finn worries for a moment that he’s annoyed him, but Poe tugs his hand gently and tightens his grip on the knife. “We start by carving out the top. When you do this, you have to make sure you cut at an angle, so when we want to put the top back on it doesn’t fall into the pumpkin.” He lets Finn take over, watching as he bites his lip and begins sawing through the pumpkin top.

Finn furrows his brow, surprised at just how difficult it is to saw through a pumpkin. He vaguely registers Poe sitting down and starting on the second pumpkin, and a nice quiet descends. It isn’t really quiet, with their sawing and the slight rattle of tools on the table, Halloween-themed music still playing in the living room, but it feels peaceful.

When he finally gets back to where he started and the pumpkin top loosens, he carefully sets down the carving knife before he whoops in triumph. He tugs on the stem, grimaces at the stringy, seedy pumpkin guts that follow, and turns to Poe for his next instructions.

“There’s more where that came from,” Poe laughs, pausing in his carving to take the guts from Finn in exchange for a dessert spoon. “Now you’ve gotta scoop out the insides. All of it goes in the bowl, ‘cause we can use it for different pumpkin things.” He drops the top in the bowl, and they both laugh at the squelchy thud it makes.

Scooping is easier than sawing, Finn finds, and a bit faster. When Poe pulls out his pumpkin’s guts and swaps the knife for a spoon, he gets to scooping rigorously, sending a cheeky grin to Finn, and in that grin is a challenge. _You’re on, Dameron_. The competition is fairly even between them, despite Finn’s head start (mostly because where Finn is trying not to get too close to the pumpkin’s outer edge or drop the guts on the table, Poe has no such worries about either of those things), and he only beats his boyfriend by a few precious seconds.

It’s enough for him, though, and he lets out another whoop as he tosses the spoon to pick up the smaller carving knife. Poe groans dramatically, throwing his hands up and spraying pumpkin guts all over them and the floor. Finn yelps as it lands on his shoulders and in his hair, dropping the knife and turning to Poe’s horrified face to… admonish him, maybe, except the words get caught in his throat.

The pumpkin landed more squarely on Poe than on Finn, and a chunk of it slides wetly from his beautiful freshly cleaned curls, down the bridge of his nose, over his cheek and chin to land on his thighs with a plop. Finn snorts at the noise, Poe grins, and then both of them break down into giggly laughter, leaning into each other’s shaking shoulders and knocking foreheads more than once.

Finn feels light and floaty, so full of love for the ridiculous man next to him that he could probably go to an entirely different galaxy, as long as he could hold Poe’s hand on the way there.

As if hearing his thought, Poe straightens up, cups Finn’s face, and although still breathless with laughter, he says, “I love you so very much, you know.”

“I know,” Finn grins. Poe pouts, making Finn laugh again. “I love you too, you absolute dork.”

“Even though I’m a mess?” Poe reaches up and pulls some stringy pumpkin off the frame of Finn’s glasses. He hadn’t even noticed it, but he’s relieved it didn’t land on the lenses. That would be truly irritating.

“Even though you’re a mess.” He kisses Poe’s cheek, then adds softly, “because you’re so much more than that, too.”

A pretty blush spreads where Finn’s lips touched, and he grins as he pulls back. It hadn’t been a competition this time, not really, but he’s definitely won anyway.

Poe clears his throat, coughs a little, turns away to try and compose himself, but Finn catches the smile on his lips, and besides, the blush already gave him away.

Finn turns away too, picks the knife up once more and sets to carving out the spooky face Poe has drawn. It has a wide, twisted mouth, with thin lines stretched between the lips that look like they’re meant to be strings of saliva. The eyes are narrow triangles with curlicues at the corners, thin teardrop-shapes for nostrils, giving the impression of a Scooby Doo esque monster laughing before it kidnaps you to further its evil plot. It looks really cool, in Finn’s totally unbiased opinion, and he hopes his amateur carving can do it justice.

He decides to start simple, using the nostrils to get the feel for more delicate carving. It’s not as difficult as he expected it to be, although he’s very aware that all he is currently doing is making a hole with corners. The eyes will require he pay attention to the lines, as he needs to carve out the ‘whites’ of the eye while keeping the ‘iris’ on the pumpkin, and the mouth is a whole other scary story.

Once he’s happy with the nostrils, he moves to the nearest corner of the left eye, the one that doesn’t have a little curlicue. The triangle shape isn’t perfectly straight ( _ha_ ), it has a curve that Finn carves along slow and gentle, biting his lip in his concentration.

There’s a sound like something tearing beside him. Poe cries out, then curses, scooting his chair back and swearing again, louder. Finn looks over, then drops his knife and jumps to his feet.

He tears his shirt off and presses it to Poe’s arm, specifically the spot in Poe’s arm that is currently gushing blood all over Poe’s shirt and legs and their pumpkin-splattered floor. Poe is breathing heavily, clutching Finn’s hand that is pressing the now blood-soaked shirt to the wound in Poe’s arm that is _quite literally gushing blood_.

Any and all knowledge of first aid that he might have flees Finn’s head, and he can’t think of what to say, what to do, _will the bleeding stop, does he need a hospital, shit, what if he needs surgery, fucking fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck do I do_?

Poe is gasping, shaking Finn’s arm, a slight whine to his voice. He must be in pain; it can’t be fun having your arm torn open by a pumpkin-covered carving knife.

Fuck, shit, _pumpkin covered_. “Keep pressure on it,” Finn says as he stands up. Poe’s eyes widen in panic, but Finn doesn’t have time to reassure him, he needs cleaner for the wound, gauze or something, to replace his pumpkin-covered shirt that is now pressed into Poe’s open bleeding arm, and then they’re going to the hospital, because Finn is freaking out too much to know what to do next.

He rushes to the bathroom, yanks the first aid kit out from underneath the sink, rummages through it to find the _stupid fucking thing where is it — aha! Found the bastard_ , a roll of gauze. Back to the kitchen, and Poe is leaning heavily into the back of the seat, his hand pressed against the wound, although not as tightly as Finn would like. Blood runs down his palm, drips off his fingers like a scene from a horror movie. Finn shudders.

He drops to his knees at Poe’s feet, tugs gently on the wounded arm, pulls the shirt off to find it still bleeding steadily. He swallows tightly, unrolls the gauze and wads it up to press it to the wound. Poe cries out again, sitting up to try and push away from the feeling, but Finn holds him steady, grasps Poe’s shoulder to try and catch his eye.

“Poe? Baby, I need you to please talk to me, tell me what you’re feeling?” _What a dumb fucking question, he’s feeling a gaping hole in his arm, and you need to go to the hospital!_

“Hurts…” Poe mumbles.

“I know, baby, I know.” Finn grabs Poe’s other hand and brings it to the gauze. “I have a really important job for you, okay? I need you to press down here, and it needs to be tight. It’s gonna hurt, but it’s really important you keep that pressure there, okay?”

“Mkay,” Poe nods, pressing down and then whining at the feeling.

Finn pulls Poe to his feet, gently but with haste, and guides him to the front door, barely remembering to grab his keys, his phone, his wallet, and a hoodie. It’s a painful parallel to only a few hours earlier, when Poe led Finn into their home. The music has stopped now, but the candles are still flickering, and although Finn is usually much more fire safe, he really doesn’t want to leave Poe without proper medical attention for any longer than he already has.

With Poe in the front seat of the car and the door of their house locked, Finn pulls out of the driveway and drives as fast as he dares in the direction of the hospital, jaw clenched from the way Poe moans when the car movements jar him too much. “Not long now, love, don’t worry,” he murmurs, although he isn’t sure Poe hears, “not long.”

✩✩✩✩✩

It’s been hours. Finn swears it’s been hours since he last saw Poe.

Poe hadn’t looked good, when they arrived at the hospital. He had seemed drowsy and far away, couldn’t walk on his own, and didn’t answer any of Finn’s questions. He was taken straight to emergency care, once Finn had told them what happened, but Finn hadn’t been allowed to follow him. He had been asked to wait in the waiting room.

He had protested, tried to follow, but the nurse wouldn’t have it, and had ordered him to a seat, giving him paperwork to do while he waited. He sat, but he wasn’t happy about it, and not just because they were horrifically uncomfortable seats. The paperwork had been finished and taken away a while ago, and he was struggling with nothing to distract him. He shifts positions again, folding one leg so his ankle rests on his other leg’s thigh, takes his glasses off to rub at his eyes, pulls a hand through his hair only to feel the pumpkin bits he’d forgotten about. He wipes the hand on his pants, puts his glasses back on, shifts position again.

Hospitals are awful, and Finn is worried about Poe.

He isn’t sure if the fact that the hoodie he grabbed on his way out the door is actually Poe’s makes things better or not. It smells like Poe, like their apple soap and his aftershave, his morning coffee and the engine oil from his garage. Finn’s heart aches every time he breathes in.

Realistically, it probably isn’t too terrible. Having had the time to calm down, he’s aware that, although there are some vital veins and arteries in your arms, Poe’s cut was more on the back of his forearm than the fragile inner part. It was probably one of those cases where it looks worse than it actually is, and Finn made sure to put pressure on the wound (which is one of the most basic but most vital first aid tips, honestly) and drove Poe to the hospital as soon as he could. There wasn’t much more he could do, and Poe will likely be fine again in no time.

But just the fact that Poe was hurt at all is enough to make Finn panic, and he still isn’t entirely sure how it happened. If what he thinks happened is in fact what happened, then he’s going to having some very stern words with his boyfriend about knife safety and hypocrisy. But only after Poe is a bit better. Tomorrow, maybe.

He looks up at the sound of footsteps, then jumps to his feet when he realises there are two sets: one the light, steady tread of tennis shoes and another, less steady but far more familiar.

The nurse from before rounds the corner, and when she notices Finn, she gives him a kind smile, but his eyes are on Poe. His boyfriend is leaning heavily on the nurse, arm bound up in bandages and bloody shirt replaced with a hospital-issue tee. Finn moves forward, his own steps a little unsteady, and catches Poe around the waist. He startles, but when he realises it’s Finn, tension leaks out of his shoulders and he slumps into waiting arms.

“He’s had to have some stitches,” the nurse says, handing Finn a sheaf of papers, “and he’ll have to come in again in a week to get them removed. You’re lucky you came in when you did, and that the laceration wasn’t any worse.”

“Thank you,” Finn says, his arm tightening around Poe’s waist. Poe returns the squeeze, weaker but more present than earlier, and Finn’s heart aches again for an entirely different reason. Or maybe not so different at all, really. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s our job, sir,” the nurse says, not unkindly. “Just be sure to keep it clean, no vigorous movements with the wounded arm, and maybe a lesson on knife safety wouldn’t go amiss.” She smiles again, but it’s a tired thing. “The number of carving accidents we get around this time of year borders on ridiculous.”

Finn laughs, a little hysterically. “I can imagine.”

He thanks her again, and then they’re out, Finn once again guiding Poe into the car. He’s worryingly quiet, and when Finn tries to let him go at the passenger seat, Poe clings to him in a panic before he visibly forces himself to let go. Finn all but sprints back to the driver’s side, giving his hand back to Poe as soon as he sits. The drive is quiet (and a little tense on Finn’s side, because he’s not used to driving one handed), and he has to fight not to glance at Poe every other moment.

The spell only breaks when they pull up to their home, which is very thankfully not on fire, a concern Finn completely forgot he had until that moment. He cuts the engine and finally looks over at Poe, noting the way he curls around Finn’s hand like a child around a toy. It’s not often he sees Poe like this, quiet and vulnerable.

“Baby?” Finn asks softly, using the hand Poe isn’t holding to brush the curls off Poe’s forehead. He trails his fingers over Poe’s face, trying to encourage him to look up without forcing him. “What’s going on up here?”

“I don’t like hospitals,” Poe murmurs, leaning into Finn’s touch, “and it freaked me out when I couldn’t find you.” He flexes his fingers with a wince. “Also, my arm really fucking hurts,” he adds with false cheer.

Finn smiles, because he knows it’s what Poe wants. “Maybe you should listen to Mr Dameron’s knife safety lessons.”

Poe nods with a self-deprecating grin, avoiding Finn’s eyes. “Yeah, maybe.” He looks at the house, so Finn does too, sees orange light still flickering in the windows.

They should go inside soon, he knows, to check on the candles and the pumpkins, and hope that the time they spent at the hospital wasn’t enough for ants to come sniffing. He needs to read those papers, make sure Poe reads them too, and then they need to go to bed because it’s almost one in the morning.

He looks back at Poe, notes the faraway gaze and the way he’s gnawing on his lip.

Maybe the papers can be read in the morning.

“Come on, love, let’s get inside.” Finn steps out of the car, and when Poe doesn’t immediately follow, he moves around to the passenger door and pulls him out, arm back around his waist as they walk to the front door.

Finn struggles to get the keys out of his pocket, so Poe grabs them instead. Finn shoots him a grateful smile, but Poe still won’t look at him. They shuffle in a little awkwardly, with Finn still holding on to Poe and Poe rushing ahead to escape Finn’s grasp. _He’s not escaping, he’s probably just tired_ , Finn’s rational brain says, but his anxiety brain is shouting _he hates you, it’s your fault this happened, he never wants to look at you again_ , and he isn’t so sure it’s wrong.

He leaves the papers on the coffee table and makes a mental note to read them in the morning, going around and blowing out the candles. Poe makes his way to the kitchen, but stops dead at the doorway, that line of tension back in his shoulders. Fuck, the place is probably covered in his blood. Finn comes up behind him, shuffling his steps so he doesn’t startle his boyfriend, and tugs Poe’s shoulder, turns him around gently.

“You go wash up and get into bed, okay? I’ll deal with this.”

Poe’s jaw clenches, but he nods, slipping past Finn without a word. That ache in his heart has come back with a vengeance, and he thinks he might cry if he isn’t careful.

Or maybe he’ll throw up instead, he thinks as he enters the kitchen. There is less blood than he remembers, but it’s still heavy in the air, accompanied by pumpkin and cinnamon and dinner, a noxious concoction that makes his stomach roll. He blows out the candles, takes the pumpkins and puts them on the back porch, and then finds himself staring at the bloodstains on the grey kitchen tiles. He isn’t sure how they’re gonna remove that, is horrified by the thought of having Poe’s blood there forever. Maybe they can just replace the whole floor?

Finn is too tired to think about it, so he turns the fan on and opens the kitchen window a half inch to try and clear the air and decides to deal with it in the morning.

He strips down to his boxers on his way to the bedroom, drops his clothes (also covered in Poe’s blood, should they be thrown out too?) in the laundry basket, walks into the bedroom only to pull up short.

Poe sits on the edge of the bed, still fully dressed, his bandaged arm cradled close to his chest. The light of the moon that filters in through half-drawn blinds makes the tear tracks on his cheeks glow a delicate silver, makes him seem far smaller than he is. He still won’t look at Finn.

His gaze stays trained on Finn’s feet, watches him walk forward until their knees touch, making a shudder run through Poe’s body. He curls forward, rests his head on Finn’s stomach, and mumbles, so quietly that Finn wonders if he was even meant to hear it, “I’m sorry.”

Hesitantly, gently, Finn starts to run his fingers through Poe’s hair, pausing when he reaches some still-stuck pumpkin, taking the time to work the strands apart. They’ll have to shower then, first thing, before dealing with the floor or the papers or the party (the _party_ , he can’t believe he forgot about the _party_ —)

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Finn says, but Poe shakes his head, brings up his good hand to clutch at Finn’s waist.

“I wanted to make it a nice night for you,” he says, and his voice is rough with tears. “I know you’ve been stressed at work and you weren’t keen on the party, I had a whole plan of what we could do, but then the fucking pumpkins, and you said that thing, about how I’m so much more than a mess, and you gave me that smile, and then the way you bit your lip when trying to carve… I don’t know why it got to me so much, but it did. Not that it’s your fault, of course, I’m the idiot who can’t listen to his _own fucking rules_ , and instead proved that I am just a mess, one not good enough for you.”

“Baby, no.” Finn drops to his knees in front of Poe, cups Poe’s face, and finally catches his boyfriend’s eye. “You’re perfect for me, Poe.” He keeps his voice slow and deliberate, make sure Poe can hear every word without doubt. “I know your brain sometimes tells you you aren’t, the same way mine tells me everything’s a disaster, but I am telling you that you’re perfect. I wouldn’t want anyone else in the world.”

Poe’s lip trembles, and he clamps his teeth down on it. Finn uses his thumb to pull it out, presses a gentle kiss where Poe bit, feels Poe take a shaky breath. “I love you,” Finn says.

“I love you too,” Poe laughs wetly. He drops his head onto Finn’s shoulder, buries his face in Finn’s neck, tightens his grip on Finn’s waist. Finn wraps one arm around Poe’s shoulders and uses the other to push himself to his feet. Poe follows, refusing to let go, and they stumble into the bed together, the sound of their slightly choked laughter music to Finn’s ears.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be short and sweet and funny, and then it just kept going and going. 
> 
> Hi! Thanks for reading my fic! I haven’t written anything in a while, but I really wanted to do something for Halloween, so here I am. I know that a lot of (mostly bad) Things are happening right now, so let’s just imagine that this is set in a parallel, way less traumatic 2020, and hopefully it makes you feel better :)
> 
> (Also, if you’re here from my Merlin stuff, I’m sorry this isn’t more of that. Maybe you like Star Wars?) 
> 
> Let me know what you think?


End file.
